Oneway Mirror
by Monarch
Summary: He does not scream. Nor cry. He is a silent, mortally-wounded animal falling, hitting the earth with barely a sound. Shattered from within. His name is Max.
1. Looking out, whilst you cannot look in

I look at your happy faces.

All of you, wearing grins, not plastered on like mine, but real and full of life. Laughing aloud as Tyson forces you onto the merry-go round. I go on, as if willingly, playing along with this ridicules charade. How could you know that the joy I express is only a mask, hiding what I do not dare to speak? How could you know that I look at each of you, with something nearing resentment?

Because you can be happy. You can feel joy. You do not need to pretend you are something you are not. You do not smile during the light, and collapse as soon as the moon breaks the horizon, sobbing tears of pain.

Why must I do this? You do not mask your feelings. But it has always been this way. A self-taught avoidance of pity.

How I hate pity.

My defence is hard-shelled and complete. My voice does not betray me. My actions show only a well-written play. And my eyes had long since drawn the shutters to the soul.

Yes, some of you pretend. And one is nothing but a lie. But the defence is easy to see, easy to break. None even know that mine exist.

Because I am a one-way mirror. You look into me, and see yourself. Not your fears, not your faults, but every quality you wish to posses.

Only I know the truth. Only I can see out.

You cannot see the cracked glass I hide, nor the pain inside me. You only know my charade, and my name, but even those hold no clues. So I will tell you now, for they are meaningless. I do not hide them, because they do not matter.

My name is Max Mizihura.

Um...yeah. Odd chapter. And way too short. But I wrote chapter two—I promise it will be up soon. Though I've no idea why you'd want that…anyhow—REVIEW!


	2. Fairground, so joyfull Me, so not

The sun is mocking me.

They say that this is the wrong thing to think—nothing is mocking me. And certainly not the sun. The sun cannot think, Max. The sun cannot mock you.

Yet it is. Its white-hot fire is burning me, gradually incinerating my flesh, boiling my running blood. Let it. Let me taken by the flames, let me be burnt. Please.

Remember that song? _There are two little magic words / that will open any door you please._ So why don't they? Why?

"Earth to Max. Earth to Max. Do you read me?"

I wish. The earth hates me.

But I slip on my mask again. I man, it's what they want, right? Happy, happy Max, the boy who never existed. And it would not to let them know.

"Max to Earth. Reporting in." I grinned as I replied to Tyson.

"Good!

"Hey, Max, you O.K.?"

No, not really.

"Yeah, of course. It's just…more colourful then I though it would be." Trust it to Ray to notice my spaced-out look. Well, what did you expect, Max? You were staring—no, _glaring_ at a cotton candy stand for five minutes. Anyway, the lie was well spun, considering my half-millisecond to answer. Now I just had to pray no one noticed my quarter-second pause.

Whatever. I'd give Tyson money for cotton candy—_that_ ought to distract them. Come to think of it, I could probably go hyper-spaz and jump in the duck pond or something…

"COTTON CANDY!"

I smirked, inwardly, grinned outside. Right on cue, as always, Tyson was racing towards the Cotton Candy stand. Yep, that should distract everyone for a bit. Looking behind me—I was standing a bit behind Tyson, at least until he took off—I could see Hilary shaking her head, Kenny groaning, a amused smile from our oldest member, Ray, and, well, absolutely nothing from Kai.

Kai is pathetic.

Anyway, I caught up to Tyson, at the pink-flavoured booth. He was sorting out pennies and quarters in front of a very annoyed vender. When he saw me, he looked up and waved.

"Hi Max? Care to lend me some bills? I need…um…twenty four dollars?"

Oh, and are you planning to pay that all in pennies? No, don't worry—it probably won't take more then a week.

"Sure." I handed him the money.

"Thanks, Max! You're the best!" Tyson shoved the money into the man's hand, and waited as he made the cotton candy.

Tyson. If only you knew.

* * *

And here we have the end of the _second_ chapter of One-Way Mirror. Like? Hate? Or feel like exploding your computer into a zillion little pieces and cursing the words on the shattered screen into oblivion? (Which is a bad thing peoples. Don't tell me that unless you really hate it.)  
I want any suggestions. I can't figure out how to get it right, so…

For clarification—Max is not talking to you. Ha. He's sort of talking to himself. Don't ask why. It may make more sense later. And then again…it might not…

There are a few clues dropped in this chapter, as to the rest of the story, and WHY he's as he is. You may scour, but you probably won't find anyway…as the story goes on, later chapters may make my subtle hints a little more obvious!

And thank you SO much to all you nice peoples who reviewed! I shall respond…

**Kenzie Jadenwie:** Thankee. I am updating now!

**personne du monde: **Um…is that a good thing?Thanks if it is!

**twincharm: **Thankee! The first chapter was a sort of introduction. They get longer from here on. Promise! And thanks for the correction—guess I'm not using the Japanese name after all.

**Spyrit Phoenyx:** Yes…many grammar mistakes. sigh Microsoft Word hates me… And you shall get an explanation for sure. But it's not in the second chapter. Actually, it's somewhere in the climax or turning point, or whatever of the story. So I will torture you until then. (Or you could look for my _very_ subtle hints. I think they're a little _too_ subtle though. (I'll probably put a 'hint guide' later on, where I shall list all my hints. Ha. 'cus I like them.)

**Isil Maxfan:** Glad you like it! And it will be finished, but if you want to write an alternate version, go ahead. Just stick my name in there somewhere, and tell me where it is… And if you don't have an author account, and it's just on your computer or something, e-mail it to me. And I shall read. And if you want, I could even post it. So…go write a Maxfic! The world needs more of them…


	3. Your win, your loss

"GAAHH!"

"GO RAY! AND MAX!"

"GAAHH!"

"ATTACK! NO! HOLD BACK! GO!"

"GAAHH!"

Unfortunately, this _is_ a typical training scene. Who knows if it's real. I don't. Not anymore.

But I can feel the cold metal of my launcher in my left land, the sharp teeth of the rip cord in my right. And I hear Kenny panicking about the dish and our own security, Tyson cheering for both me and Ray, locking in the battle of training.

It doesn't mean anything. But there is no darkness, nothing falling away into unendless blackness, and no _her_ screaming loudly enough to rip the heart from the devil.

So maybe it is real.

"MAX GET BACK INTO IT RAY NOWS YOUR CHANCE!"

I was shocked out of my stupor by Tyson's screaming in one long, annoying breath. Ray was actually _trying_ to take his chance, before Tyson shrieked at me. Hey, his loss, my gain.

Draceil stabilized immediately, casing Driger to bounce harmlessly off. He ran at my blade several more times, before giving up and getting back to circling.

A tiger batting at a tortoise shell. Pathetic.

"Good attack, but you won't get past my defence so easily!"

Yes, I get slightly less hyper in battle. It allows me to scrape an occasional win.

Not that I couldn't beat them all if I felt like it. Black Dranzer was the only challenge I've ever faced. But friendly little Max doesn't present much of a challenge, now, does he? You wish.

"DRIGER, ATTACK!"

Ray was trying, again. Only this time, he had adjusted his angle slightly, so that it would catch Draceil under his attack ring, and flip him over on his back. It might have been impressive, but all you had to do was angle your blade slightly to avoid it, _and_ he had gotten the angle slightly off. In this position, he'd hit my blade, and send himself flying out of the dish. Which is slightly less impressive.

So I send a silent command to Draceil. He adjusted _his_ angle ever-so-slightly, fixing Ray's mistake. I was hit, flipped over, whichever. Yay, Ray.

"WHAT!"

Me. Sadly enough.

I glanced backwards. Kenny was watching in awe, Tyson had a stupid grin on his face, revealing the fact that he had no clue what had just happened, and Kai was wearing a slight smirk, hardly noticeable.

"That was great, Max, but you need to pay attention to the angle.

I know, Ray. Actually, I know someone else who should too.

"Oh! I see! Great battle, Ray, you were awesome!"

He won't know until it's too late.


	4. darkness

There is something wonderfully comforting about darkness.

Perhaps it's the way it seems to swallow everything, stealing sight. Everyone is blind in the darkness, and nothing is what it seems.

Or maybe it's the fact that anything could be there. Any_one._ _You_ could be there, and no one would know.

Are you there?

I reach forward. My fingertips close only on air, groping in the black.

_You could be there._

But you aren't. I am.

And I am alone.

_Come back…_

Well, that was rather short. But it says a lot, actually. And I'm REALLY REALLY REALLY sorry about the last chapter! I was in such a hurry to update that I forgot all about chapter reviews. So, here are two chapters worth of reviews…

CHAPTER TWO 

**Forever-Sapphire:** Thank you! I'm glad you think so… YAY! THANK YOU!

**Isil Maxfan: **Hi again! Yay-ness about the fanfics…Which ones? Are you a Fanfiction author, or are they just on the computer? …fanfiction good… Oh, and what's Gomen…?

**personne du monde:** It is what? But thank you anyway!

**Monica Reid:** Certainly not! I don't do Yaoi at all…I do friendship, though. And…well, you'll see. No Yaoi, at ALL, though! Thank you, though!

**Rising Pheonix**: Thank you! And yes, Max _does_ need someone to understand him…he needs a bit more too, though, and it will take quite a while for him to realize it.

**CHAPTER THREE (last one!)**

**Isil Maxfan:** Hi…again! I say that a lot, don't I! Well, thank you, and here's chapter three!

**Jani Rieme: **Thankee! I love making new angles…look carefully in the show…Max is really a lot more depressed in his thoughts. Like, seriously, sometimes he is just so…depressed. He's a bit more so here, but hey. And since you can't wait, here's chapter four!

So…yeah. Anyway, does anyone have any speculations on the plot? I love hearing these…I'll give you cyber-chocolate if you guess! (Which probably won't happen. Many clues so far, but abstract ones. )


	5. Listing Reasons

Ten reasons why you cannot possibly be here:

1. -You-

1. -Because-

1. -The reason is-

1.- It's-

1. -You can't because-

1. Why?

The list is there. She said that lists would help get my thoughts in order. And I know I need to, because I keep looking for you in the darkness, even though you aren't there. But if you aren't there, why do I keep hearing you? Why do you call, circling around me until I lose all sense of direction, and fall, sobbing to the floor? You cannot call if you are not there. You cannot torment me if you do not exist. And never can you call those words from my lips, the ones that are truth.

But it can't be. Because you can't be here, can you? It's just not possible.

But I can't help thinking…

So I write a list.

And all I can come up with is the very last Onedotperiodspace, and that's not part of a list because it's a question.

I draw a big, red X through it, and crumple it up.

Then I walk into the bathroom, and run water over the paper until it dissolves and runs, liquid through the drain.

No one will find it.

But…

Does that mean you can't answer?

Short again. I know… but at least it's quick? Anyway, Max is just thinking over some stuff. The story's not all like this, but it is rather similar. By the way, the list orrigionaly had crosses through some of the text (the ones marked -like this- , but Fanfiction can't support it, so...yeah.

**Rising Pheonix:** Thank you! I'm glad you can feel sorry for Max…I was hoping that I was actually able to do that! (Make someone care about a character, even only enough for them to feel sorry.)

**Tigerrilly: **Thank you! By the way, don't get your hopes up _too_ much about that comment…there's not too much built up on it. But there is some Kai/Max (NON-YAOI!) interaction later on… Freindshippiness, nothing stronger.


	6. Editing a story, editing my life

I am there, alone. For once, it is not you inhabiting my thoughts, but an English project, which I am editing for someone. As usual, it contains nothing interesting at all, but, under our teacher's direction, has eight pages of it. I am skimming through it, checking a word here and there, when…

"_Cynthia, I know exactly how you feel. You have just—_

A cold chill runs through my body as I read the sentence. I think, _can you read my mind?_ That is what they always say. I know how you feel, why don't you talk about it, max, I understand. It's O.K. to cry.

And I think, _No, no, of course it isn't. If it was, why would you be doing this to me?_ If it was okay to cry, no one would be there to tell you that you had to get over it. No one would smile, and tell you to have a good outlook on life.

And if they understood would they ask? Why would they make me talk, when all I want to do is slip into an unending darkness?

It is because they do not understand. How could they possibly do so, when they have never felt my pain, never heard the diamond-hard words you spoke? Why do they think that you did not mean them, when the force behind those syllables took every eon of your soul?

They have never known, they never will. They can only pretend, and believe that they have filled the broken vial that is my soul.

* * *

This is also rather short. I apologize, but I _am_ putting them out reasonably fast…I think… 

**Chibi Amo:** Um…did you just review _only_ the first and second chapter? I apologize if I hadn't noticed you before…no idea how that could have happened, though…Thankees anyway!

**twincharm:** Really, this chapter? It's one of the less freaky, I think…I guess we all have different experiences, though. I'm sorry about the length…I will do a large chapter soon, I promise! And thank you! Max's dark side is intriguing? Ooh…Just wondering, but are you a Kai fan by any chance?

**Rising Pheonix:** Thank you! You feel like that sometimes? That's bad… Thankees again!

**Isil Maxfan: **Awesome! I'll read it soon…Max fics are GOOD!


	7. At dinner

There are three of us, now, sitting here at the dinner table. Mayo and noodles, again—one dish I admit that I actually enjoy. I'm not sure why, but…maybe it's just distracting. And anyway, most food seems to turn to ash in my throat.

We look like a normal family. Except for the mayo. Who eats mayo on noodles? I'm not so sure.

There is idle chit-chat going on in the background of my brain, and I am attempting to ignore this so I can answer my parent's questions properly. Their topics are no more important, but have more to do with this particular moment.

_So Max, how was your day? _

"Fine, I guess."

_Its not going to last you know. You can't slide by in life forever. They will realize…_

I become aware that I am being stared at. It takes me a moment to realize that I have been listening to the wrong conversation. I snap back in.

"Sorry? Did I hear wrong?"

Not top-quality answers, but what can you say when you've been answering voices in your head at the dinner table?

"Max, I asked if you handed in your project."

Oh…that…Pardon?

"Um…yes…I thought you asked how it went, Mom."

"You had a project due, Max? Why didn't you tell me? We could have worked on it together."

Well, many reasons. Maybe because I don't even have a project due.

"Oh, it was a in-school project. Didn't I mention it?"

"I know you're lying, Max. You can't run forever."

"What, dad?" I feel a chill run through my already-frozen body, like an ice-cube

running down a glacier. How does he know?

"Max, I didn't say anything."

Oh. I hate those voices.

"Sorry, I thought I heard something."

"Max, you look pale. Are you sick?" I see my dad's worried face. I'm safe, and might have boughten a few days off of school. Good.

"Maybe…I hope not."

"Well, I don't know. We'll see how you feel tomorrow, okay?" Typical dad. Always so concerned about everything. Well, I suppose…after that… But he switches topics again. I concentrate hard on his lips, to make sure that they are making the sounds I am hearing, so that they are not the voices again. Good. They are his.

"Dear, we have taxes again. We're a bit tight this month. We'll have to cut back a bit." His worried gaze falls to his noodles, which he stares at glumly.

Darn.

Not about the cutting back. That's fine. I don't mind. But I hate having to hide more than I already do. And taxes make…

Darn.

We finish eating, chatting happily. Then, when we are done, my dad gets up to do the dishes. My mo, 'oh so helpful' convinces him to let her do the dishes, while he goes upstairs to do whatever he usually does. As soon as we are alone in the room, she turns around to face me. There is fire in her eyes.

"Do you know how much it costs to raise a child?" she asks, her words soft. I back up as she advances towards me. There is fear in my eyes. Real fear.

"You are the reason we're tight."

It is true.

"You are the reason he's sad."

She is talking about my dad. She loves him, but not me.

"Do you know how much he worries about you? Do you know how much easier his life would be if you weren't here?"

By now I am against the wall. She is closer. I glance down at her shoes—hard. Why must we wear shoes in the house?

"All I want is a _nice_ little child of _my_ _own!_ He would be so much happier! But NO! _YOU_ have to be _here!"_

I curl up into a tight ball on the floor, sobbing with pain as her feet dig fire into my skin.

_Short. Again…but hey…_

**Jani Reme: **Glad you like them! As persone du monde **glare** has already pointed out, they are really short, therefore I can update fast…yeah…Thankees!

**Rising Pheonix:** Thank you! Yep…Max is pretty mis-understood…but he sort of likes it this way…

**personne du monde:** Why _thank_ you for that encouraging piece of information. **ultra Kai-patent death glare** Yes, they are short. I am working up to a gigantic and possibly equally short chapter, soon. Plus you get _many_ short chapters in a somewhat short space of time. So hah.


	8. Mothers

Though my eyes are closed against the harsh glare of the sun, my fingers are occupied by the bandages.

Heeled shoes are more painful then most people think.

I have done this too often not to know how to tie them tight, without so much as a downward glance. And all I have to do to find the bruises and cuts is run my fingers down the length of my now-purple arm.

Hey, some people play piano. I tie bandages.

No, it's not the first time. Every so often, I'll show up at school or at Tyson's in a long-sleeved shirt, often hoping no one will notice the weather. It's not because I woke up feeling like wearing a long-sleeved shirt, I can tell you that.

It's happened so many times…so many…whenever she is mad, really. I am her punching bag.

Yet…it hurts every time. Not just physically, though. I hate her more than you can imagine. But she is my _mother._

Mothers are supposed to love their children.

I used to think mine did. Not Judy—Elizabeth, though, unlike Judy, I never called her that. I called her Mom.

I—

But when there was trouble, she left. And she never, ever came back. Yet that captured feeling, something swirling on the wings of apple blossoms…it won't go away.

I know what it is. But it's too hard.

So easy to get hurt.

* * *

Yet another short chapter. The next is sort of built on it though…so _technically_ it's longer, right? Anyway, I'll try to get the next few out faster!

**Rising Pheonix:** Thankees! But wait…he's not _so_ bad off…

His Mom hates him, yes. But his dad definitely doesn't. Notice how Judy waited until his dad (anyone know his name?) left the room before attacking him? Well…there's a reason. And the main reason she hates him is because Max's dad won't let her have another child because he thinks it will be too hard on Max. Anyway. (Oh YEAS! Judy is Max's ADOPTED mom!)

Also, they're not _so_ tight. Granted, they do need to pay mortgage and all that, and it's a bit of a concern, but it's mostly general savings stuff. And the part I edited out (meh. It didn't work and I forgot about it) it that Max's dad wanted to cut back mostly by not trading in their car for a better one.

SO... though Max is pretty bad off, it's not so bad as I made it sound…. Meh….

**lireal ameilla:** Thank you!

I most definitely do not have those feelings, though. I guess…I dunno…I was thinking about the story for a while before I actually wrote it…so…

hi…

**Jani Reme:** Thank you!

Actually, personne du monde is a signed author. Plus he's only reviewed once. But I kind of doubt it means he likes it…notice the implication that Mirror Images(his story) is so much better…actually, he reviewed My life, no definition(the Kai version of this) with something along the lines of 'you own kai?' Maybe he didn't mean it evilly…but still…

**Tigerrelly:** Thankees! LOL, it's fine…as long as you review on occasion, I am happy! Hehe…Max's personal interaction…it's very fun to write, actually. Glad you like it!

As for Max's mom…see response to **Rising Pheonix**. By the way, in case you're wondering where the whole Mom thing came from:

In Beyblade (of course), in either season one or season two, Max is talking to his dad about how sometimes he can hear her calling his name. In my story, that refers to his non-adopted mother.

Then remember how when Max met his mom, they were both ultra-shocked, and had no idea why either of them were where they were? They don't talk a lot. And neither, whichever was said, indented to tell the other of what was going on.

And then remember how Max was so desperate to beat his Mom's team? Well, it wasn't REALLY so he could prove himself…

Anyhow…

REVIEW!


	9. Bleeding Memories

_Apple blossoms fall softly to the ground. She sits there, too, a perfect picture of peace. _Mother.

_Her dress is white, a ring of roses embroidered along the edge_. Perfect for the seashore_, you used to say,_ and perfect for sitting with you

_She laughs softly, a gentle, motherly tone as I race around amidst the rain as white. I am only five, and you are not there yet. _

_I gather an armful of petals, pouring them over mother's head, her blonde hair becoming covered in a snowstorm of sweetly scented flowers. She smiled—a fairie smile, we used to say. She gathers me into a hug, then lets me free to dance with the flowers again._

_I catch one in my hand, feeling it's soft fragrance. Then I gasp as it melts into a red liquid, dripping down over my hand, through my fingers. _Blood.

_The petals are still falling, but as they hit the ground, they turn to blood. It swishes around my ankles, and I scream. I turn for her, but she is leaving, looking back only once, not saying a word._

_The blood is filling the earth, higher, higher still, until it reaches my head and I gasp and quietly drown._

* * *

A bit freaky, yes…It's symbolic, by the way, nothing else, though Max really did remember that event up until the blood.

Oh, and I'm going to be eating my words over here. Last chappie I said that Max's family isn't really tight at all—forget that. It's an awesome idea, so I'm keeping it! MUHAHAHAHA!

Anyways…reviews!

**Jani Reme:** Thank you! LOL, I guess that would be one difference…

Well…all I can say is…great minds think alike! Except I'm not a great mind…anyway…

You peoples are coming dangerously close to the plot…

Oh, and the REALLY annoying thing about personne du monde is that I've read one of his stories and it actually is pretty good. Not as good as yours, mind you, but pretty good. Meh. Evil reviewers are supposed to have sucky stories!

Speaking of stories, is A Day in the Life going to be updated? It's awesome!

**personne du monde:** Really? That's _very_ interesting. As I said before the chapters _are_ really short. You have also told me. And you know what? You don't like, don't read.


	10. For your cruel words

I watched, hardly interested, as fire gradually incinerated someone's house. The inside was hollowed out by raging fire; people screamed shrilly as they were trapped by the cracking blaze. A single person darted into our vision before being crushed by a beam, then all went dark.

Commercial break.

"This is AWESOME!" Tyson said, eyes still glued to the television screen. The rest of us shared his opinion slightly less dramatically, though I obviously couldn't show it. Either way, I was _definitely_ more concerned about whether or not anyone was going to notice my long-sleeved shirt in this freakish summer-in-spring weather. No one had, as of yet, but I was still so worried about it that I nearly missed Tyson's next words.

"I hate commercial breaks. There are always freakishly skinny people in them."

"What, they remind you of your diet, Tyson?" I teased. Though my heart practically skipped a beat. I took care not to let it show.

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Max. But seriously, they're, like, anorexic."

"Was that an ice-cream truck?"

"Stop changing the subject, Max." Great. Since when did Tyson not spaz out about ice cream? "The ice-cream truck doesn't due rounds until next week, Tuesday." Oh. Since when has _anyone_ recorded the exact date the ice-cream truck does its rounds?

"But really. They don't eat _anything_ I bet you."

I didn't say anything. I was concentrating on my skyrocketing heartbeat. Tyson, _please_ don't say it. _Please._

"And then these _idiots_ run around thinking they're _so_ thin and stuff, then they get all anorexic and stupid. Seriously, what kind of _idiot_ does th—OW!"

My adreline rooftop, my fists clenched, I flew at him. Thinking _no. No. It's not fair. She was too young._ Then yelling it, not even sure of what I was doing. Tyson curled into a tight little ball, screaming at the top of his lungs. His Grandpa rushing into the blur that became my reality, prying me off his child with desperate help from Kai and Ray. It took them so long…Tyson would feel pain, pain for insulting you. He _will_. I promise.

And all I know now is what I have said—that strange, panicked blur, and the oh-so-solid view of their faces, shocked and frightened. And my footsteps echoing malovently on the ground as I ran as fast as they could possibly carry me.

_It's not your fault. You were only four…_

_Sena. My sister._

And here it is! The key to the story. From here on, the plot REALLY kicks in. mind you, this isn't done quite the way I would of liked…anyway.

OH YEAH! For some reason, this chapter didn't go up, and I didn't realize it for quite a while…so…SORRY!

**Rising Pheonix:** Thankees! Actually, his mother is there for him, but…well, Max just _might_ prefer it not to be so…Anyway…as long as you DO review at some point in the story, I am quite pleased! Though I am ultra-pleased if you review EVERY chapter! Which you pretty much have…Thank you!

**Jani Reme:** No? Darn…must have the wrong user…but I though you had this story about Hilary and her diary and stuff! Does it sound familiar at all?  
Meh. Anyway, Max and Kai's interaction is already planned out. They _do_ meet up, I promise. NO Yaoi, though…I don't read it, I don't write it. Anyhow, once again you are coming dangerously close to the plot…seriously, it's scary…are you a mind-reader?


	11. Deer in the Headlights

I am running, feet pounding viciously onto grass. It takes a while before I even notice that I am cold. It does not get cold in the middle of a freakish summer-in-spring weather spaz. Except at night.

I notice that I am in a park, not too far from my house, and that my eyes are blurry from tears. Quietly, I sit down on a bench to collect myself. I am tempted to say that this is literal, that pieces of me are falling off and shattering on the once-warmed asphalt the sidewalk is paved with. For that it what it feels like. Like someone had brought a sledgehammer to my soul. Like someone has reached into my body and grabbed my heart and is pulling it out.

But it is not true. Not really. However much I feel it, I am, outwardly, intact, and I am alone. There is no one here to grab my soul.

Perhaps this is because it is, indeed, night. Darkness has long since fallen, allowing the summer/spring air to cool dramatically. Perhaps there will be stargazers later on; for it is a perfectly clear sky, void of any and all cloud formations. As the park must be void of me.

My dad will be worried. I do not mind that so much, only the fact that I will, indefinitely, be questioned. And I have no answers.

It is already to late to avoid an inquiry. But I have to go home anyway, however much I want to curl up and die here.

So I do. Go home, I mean. And my dad is waiting there for me, standing at the door with a flashlight.

"MAX! Where have you been? I was looking for you and…oh, Max!"

He grabs me and gives me a hug, both compassion and anger in his voice, if that is possible.

"Max, what happened today?"

Oh, no. Not this. It was bound to happen, but I've never heard such rock-solid firmness in his voice.

"Um, I just left Tyson's, and—"

"Don't give me this, Max!" There was a pleading tone mixed in with the anger, now, hardly detectable. "I heard what happened at Tyson's dojo. Mr. Granger called me."

Oh. Great.

"Dad, it wasn't as bad as it sounds. I just lost my temper, he was talking about these people on T.V., right, and you know about Senna and all, Dad, it just—" The words are coming out in a garbled mess, because I'm not just explaining to him, but me too. It is probably a good thing that he interrupts me now.

"Max. It is every inch as bad as it sounds. Tyson is in the hospital, Max, for stitches."

Oh.

"Max, I don't care what he said, you can't do this to anyone. I know you're hurt, Max, and—"

My world is spinning so fast I hardly notice that he is using my name so much, as he always does when he is really upset. Tyson is in the hospital for stitches. And it's my fault. And…

"It's not so bad. You…well, he'll get through for sure, but it's really bad, really, Max. He's in a lot of pain, and Max, it's not good. You have to take you're feelings out somehow, but, Max, you can't hurt other people and you can't hurt yourself."

What…I didn't hear that…it can't…he doesn't know…

"Max, I found the knives."

Darn. There were four of them, hidden in my closet, for when there were too many memories. Pain is good. It can't hurt me.

"Dad, look, I can explain—"

"No, you can't, Max! Max, you can't…" he trailed off, and I could tell he was sobbing. Then he straightened up suddenly. "Max, you go to your room right now. You are grounded, do you understand, Max? Right until we can figure this whole thing out! Do you understand?"

I murmured something unintelligible and hung my head in defeat.Yes, I understood.

And I was in big trouble.

* * *

HaHA! I actually LIKE this chapter! It was supposed to be longer, though…My dad made me go to sleep, and I completely lost the trail of the story when I woke up, so I just cut it off before I wrecked it…Anyways…

**Tigerelly:** Beautifully done? Wow…I hated that last chapter…Thank you! There'll be more on Senna soon…by the way, she is the 'you' Max is always talking about. Not his mom. (The VERY subtle difference is that when Max talks about his mom, he callsI her 'she' and when he talks about Senna, he calls her 'you'…at least, I'm PRETTY sure I wrote it like that…anyways, the only chapter he talks about his mom is the apple blossoms chapter and the end of the one right before it…anyhow…

I don't think that really relate to your review, does it? But if you look, there ARE explanations randomly and often accidentally in peoples review responses…

**Rising Pheonix:** Really? That's scary…I hope you're O.K. now, though!

Once again, more info. on Senna is coming up. Maybe not in the next chapter, though…I'm not sure where it will go yet…

You do not know Senna yet, by the way…I REALLY hope she isn't in the show or something…that WOULD be a total accident…

**Maisy:** Thank you! Dar writing is actually a lot easier than humorous or light or whichever. (For me, at least…) And yes, Max is pretty mis-understood…though…anyway…

I'm not _quite_ sure if Tyson deserved being punched. Yes, he is an idiot (yet oh-so-useful in stories! He asks all the stupid questions!) But _stitches_? Anyway…Max didn't just punched him. He ATTACKED him. Like punched him, scratched him, but him, yanked his hair…well, pretty much everything. The world is much thankful that Max does not carry daggers around…

'kay, I admit…I didn't give half as much information needed to a make analysis…sorry!


	12. Apologies not ment

My eyes are directed at the ground as I enter the dojo. I am here only because my dad made me. He's been quiet lately, and somewhat angry. I suppose…I don't know why, really. You'd think he'd have calmed down by now—it's not as if I yelled at him or anything. Actually, I went down and apologized, playing the old 'Aren't I the perfect kid?' routine, helping out around the house and all…anyway, I don't want it to go on like this for too long. Not that I mind him leaving me alone, of course. It's quite a bit nicer not to have some therapist poking around your mind every other Wednesday.

In any case, Tyson is smiling as I enter. A bit worried, a bit afraid…and very concerned. Odd.

Ray and Kai seem to be standing sentry, alert as bodyguards. Tyson, as always, is oblivious. He's pathetic, seriously.

"Listen, Tyson…" I say, allowing my eyes to leave the wood flooring. "I'm sorry about the other night. I just sort of freaked out."

"It's fine, Max!" Tyson says, cheerfully. There is a black line of stitches down his face, I notice. I hope it hurts. "But…why'd you do that? I mean, what did I say?"

You dissed my sister, you idiot. You can't do that to people who can't defend themselves.

"It's hard to explain. I've just been tense lately."

"Really? Max, you can tell us what's going on." He is suddenly VERY concerned. I feel like ripping his stitches out from his smug little face, and letting him bleed to death. "We're your friends, you know."

Are you, now?

"No. My dad says that I can't tell people. Sorry, Tyson," I invent.

He looks put out, then begins badgering me.

"Oh, come on. We won't tell anyone, really, Max, it's Okay! We want to help, you know—"

"Cut it out, Tyson."

I look up, surprised. Tyson does to—straight at Kai, who has spoken. Interesting…Kai has never come to my defence before. Then again, his life isn't exactly perfect. Perhaps he has suspicions.

I have to find out how much he knows. If he does figure it out…

Senna, I wish you were here. I wish you were anywhere than where you are now.

* * *

Okay, okay! (Dodges rotten fruit) Ooh…I wish I really could do that…anyway…

I'm REALLY sorry it's been so long! I actually have no excuse, other than many things have been happening lately, and that I've discovered Neopets…but anyway…SORRY!

Anyway…the reviews…I love doing these, by the way, you peoples really make writing worth it! 

**Jani Reme:** The last bit…whichever do you mean? If this answers your question (I'm seriously not sure which last bit…), he really hasn't had to face anything like this before. He's never been discovered in the least, never blown his cover…Well, Mr. Granger (Anyone know his name?) didn't tell the team. He's not evil, you see. And Tyson is kind of stupid, and VERY accepting. Besides, people have spazzed out at him before. Maybe not THIS much...but still.

Oooh…Sorry about the soon. Ouch.

**Tigerelly:** Thankees! I actually liked the way this turned out, but I was REALLY messing it up before. (It's not posted, don't bother looking.)

Max sort of clawed Tyson. hard…Yeah…Max's dad really should have been better about it. He's just shocked, though—really, he gets nicer, you'll see!

Yaysies! I liked the subtle bit…I get a bit obsessive over those things. Nice to know someone appreciates them! 

**personne du monde:** Um…Is that a good sad, or a bad sad? Anyway…thanks! Assuming that was a complement…anyways…

**twincharm:** Well…I sort of just wrecked the fast part. But I'll try harder! REALLY!

Yep, Max is psycho. Seriously…

Abotut he Kai-ness…it's just the qualities of the stories, and the characteristics of Max that you liked the most….very Kai-like ones, you see.

**Rehgai:** Thankees! Love the poem…It's a bit too revealing for the style of the story, so I probably won't use it. It's awesome, anyway! PEOPLE! GO READ REHGAI'S POEM!

**liereal amellia: **yepsies, Max is full of surprises! Thank you!


	13. Done

**Unlucky Number X111**

Tyson will have told.

I know this for sure, as I wake. It is extremely conscious in my mind as I walk to school. In my usual attire and 'attitude' of course. Working on the off chance that he has finally figured out how to keep his big mouth shut.

Which he won't have, of course.

As I reach the school, my unpleasant suspicions are confirmed. Tyson is running towards me, looking apologetic.

"Max! I'm sorry, I didn't mean too!" he calls with a helpless look on his features. Around us, people stare, some looking at Tyson like he is a liar, others at me like I'm a psychopath. "I only told Hilary, and Kenny, 'cuz they'd find out anyway, and Jason and Mae, and…

I gave him three seconds to list the people he'd told, then cut him off.

"Yeah. Only the whole school, huh?"

Tyson began to protest. "No! Just…" he pauses, probably to notice that, though he hasn't old the whole school, he's told most of it anyway. "Well, I said it was just you panicking. Like you said, right?"

Yeah. No big deal, Tyson, don't sweat it.

"No, you pig-headed idiot. That's not what I said. And it wouldn't help anyway."

Tyson's face crumpled. "I'm sorry." he muttered.

Wait…did I just…

Oh.

No.

But the sound of my thoughts spurred me on, words coming out of my mouth like wildfire.

"But, _no._ Of _course_ it doesn't matter. _You're_ the world champion, aren't you? Perfect life, perfect family, perfect person. Let's all bow down to Tyson."

He was stepping back, and I forward, each word bringing me closer to him.

"No. It's O.K. You can insult my sister, you can rip my life apart. I don't mind, Tyson. You just sit back and let me worship you, okay? Because everything is fine."

Tyson seriously looked like he was going to cry. Good.

"I'm done hiding, Tyson. So you go tell that to everybody. And while you're at it, tell them I'm done with you."

I turned around, walking with the kind of disdainful dignity you see with our famous Kai all the time, letting Tyson stare open mouthed, too shocked to speak. Letting everyone watch me. Letting them all know that Max isn't the perfect, happy-land child they thought he was.

The one-way mirror is down. Forever.

* * *

O.o Max is MAD peoples. At the world in general…

So, yeah…he gets farther away from T.V. Max from here on….

And I'm VERY sorry about the time this took. The chapters definitely won't be as quick—get mad at the neo-staff, if you wish—but I WILL finish this if I have to duct tape myself to the computer every morning.

REVEIWS! You peoples rock, really…

**Rehgai:** Hehe…it was awesome…perhaps you'd like to write another poem for poor Maxie as the story goes on. (O.o, I've always wanted to call Max that…) Anyway, I don't watch CSI or Rocket Power, so don't expect any fics for those…

**personne du monde:** Okay, okay. I admit it…I found Neopets a while ago, I just rejoined…but still. Thankees, but chapters won't be any longer, probably. Hopefully, they'll COVER more stuff, but…I dunno…I prefer quality to quantity, or whatever.

**Rising Pheonix:** But you are logged in! At least…I think you are…Max would be very glad to meet you, you know. Well, actually, no, he wouldn't, he doesn't like people in general at the moment…but still.

Actually, the Kai thing is a bit complicated. It shall be explained in due time, but…yeah.

**Jani Reme:** Mr. Tate, Mr. Granger...aggh, who cares…I always get them mixed up.

Well, he can take the talk, but it was really the insults that got him. Anyway, he was stressed 'cuz of him mom and all.

Hehe…More Kai-ness is on it's way. He features big, trust me. Though NO Yaoi. Have I mentioned that before? LOL.

So what's the new reviewing procedure?

**teka:** hehe…Thankees! So what's your Neopets account?


	14. Pheonix

Well, hello.

I realize that this chapter is, in fact, four years late. Seriously, I'm sorry, and a **sincere** thank-you to anyone who's actually stuck around. (Finding _recent_ reviews was a really pleasent shock.) My plan, right now, is to put up a new chapter weekly. I can't promise I'll stick to that, but the next gap will certainly be shorter than than the last.

--

I'm walking, tears blurring my eyes. My chest heaves. The sounds coming out of my mouth are disgusting, hiccupy things. When I wipe my nose with my sleeve, the fabric comes away sticky.

There isn't much you can see when your vision becomes wet – you wander, aimless, trusting in your feet to take you somewhere worth going. Salt water is like a censor. Summoned by grief, it blocks the part so the world you don't want to see.

Walking like this, you could get run down.

You could fall off a bridge.

You could drown.

I'd suffocate in that endless pool. My lungs would fill with water; my skin would saturate with water; I'd decompose into the water and that would be the end of me.

This thought, though, frightens me more. Death is more eternal than water. Terrified, the tears are chased away.

My vision becomes bone-dry, and I realize, with a jolt, that I've wandered into a dank area of town. Where I live is not a wealthy area, but it's far better than Judi says – people keep up their lawns, let children gambol about their driveways, fix broken windows if they happen to appear. Here, every second window seems to be boarded up.

Someone is wailing behind a door.

I shiver.

There are footsteps behind me. A feeling like moving bug legs crawls into my stomach when they don't disappear, even when I keep walking, even when I turn a corner. I spin around, sharply. My voice is a scream without words, hoping to startle the person behind me and, perhaps, to call help.

I stop.

It is Kai.

He looks nonplussed, arms crossed across his chest. "Well," he snorts. "_You've_ certainly paid attention."

My internal organs seem to have settled in my throat, and all of them are acting strangely – moving quickly, moving painfully – but I quiet them down and cross my arms right back at him. "Why are you following me?" I try to keep my words harsh, but they come out damp.

He grunts.

I turn, biting my bottom lip to keep it from quivering, and start walking away. The footsteps behind me start up again. They're quick. I've hardly taken three steps when a heavy hand fall on my shoulder. I shake it away.

"Idiot," says Kai.

"Shut up," I tell him. "You don't even _know_ what you don't know."

A strange, derisive snorting noise comes from his noise. It sounds like a horse should be making it. I try to walk away again, but his hand falls once more. I jerk away and turn around, glaring. "Will you cut it out?"

"You're an idiot," he tells me, once more. Anger scratches at the inside of my skin, trying to escape and wreck havoc on this boy, but my eyes begin to water again. The stupid functions of my body are throwing me off. I don't know what to do. I stay still for a moment, and the pause is all he needs.

"You're an idiot, a stupid, self-obsessed idiot. You think – don't leave –" I've tried to get away, but he holds me still. He's strong. "You think we can't see anything, that no one comes _close_ to understanding what's happening with you. I don't know why you're unhappy, I don't know why you hide it all the time, but you're wrong_._"

I glare at his feet. "Let go."

"No."

"Kai, I'm serious. Cut it out. Let go of me, or –"

He shakes his head. The blue hair scrapes across his face. "You're too full of yourself to realize that you matter."

"That doesn't make sense." I twist, quickly, but he grabs my wrist and wraps his fingers around it. His hands aren't so much larger than mine. I've always thought of him as being ancient, but when I think about it I remember he's only thirteen. "I want to go, I want to go home –"

"You're not going home."

He's right, but I can't see how he knows that.

"I _live_ there, jerk."

He smiles, a cocky smile, a smile that belongs to someone who _knows_ he's getting his way. I've hated people more than this. Right now, though, only Tyson comes to mind.

"You hate it there. You're coming to my house, and you're staying there overnight. Call whoever it is that takes care of you from there." With his hand still wrapped around my wrist, I follow. If I don't, he'll topple me over. There's no way he won't. "I'm going to show you something important."


	15. Of Value

Ahh, thanks so much for reading. Also, an additional thanks to anyone who's reviewed. (It's all virtual, so it's hard to tell, but I am THROWING BOUQUETS OF GRATITUDE AT YOU!) It's great to be writing this again, and awesome to see that some people are still interested in reading it.

This is a longer chapter. Hopefully, that'll be a good thing.

--

Kai always speaks like a bear, and his post-kidnapping communication is no different from the usual. All his noises are guttural grunts and loud, nasally inhaling – all very dismissive and, all in all, not conducive to communication.

After he pulls us onto a bus, I try to ask him about this important thing I am to be shown.

"What is it, Kai?"

A grunt.

I huddle into the back of my chair. I have the impression that everyone is staring at me. It's not entirely unfounded; we attracted a certain number of eyes when he dragged me in by my wrist – near literally, as his speed had me stumbling, and then some more when he shoved five hundred yen into the slot with enough violence to slaughter a civilization of small, furry animals. A skinny woman with a water-spotted leather purse keeps glancing our way.

Why is it that females can get away with this? If she were a beefy man, the police would be all over her. When she looks, it's dismissed as concern.

Women are just as bad as men. Worse, sometimes.

I look away from her, then pick at the threading of my sleeve. "Well, you could at least _tell_ me, Kai. You've already stalked me, you've physically forced me to follow you – the element of surprise is clearly lost. As is any of the minimal respect I once had for you." I'd like it to bite. There's no real purpose, though, apart from harm. I'm discovering that the sentiments I hid behind my glass wall sound better outside of my mouth.

He accompanies his non-committal shrug with a disaffected noise.

"Nothing you throw at me will surp—"

"Will you _shut up_?" His voice comes out in a frustrated burst. I look over, my eyes carefully lidded.

Simply to be disagreeable, I look him over once, making sure to adopt the same expression that one might wear when observing a squished spider.

Kai's muscles are tense. His eyebrows twist downwards, tying themselves into little knots at their bases. There's something flighty in his shoulders.

"Whatever." I shrug.

He shuts his eyes.

We sit in silence for the rest of the ride.

I watch the landscape go by. Slowly, rough and distended houses meld into middle-class homes. Cardboard windows are exchanged for glass. The atmosphere carves itself into something safer.

At least once, the entire population of the bus is exchanged. We are faced with new passengers, new faces. The staring women gets off. She walks down a street with her head bowed. A little girl following her father gets on her knees and presses her face to the glass.

The houses begin to bloat. They become distended monstrosities, gargantuan and lavish in their frivolity. Driveways adopt strange patterns. They are made of stones in all colors and shapes, and spiral or sweep outwards from triptych garages.

How he knows where we are is a mystery, as his eyes do not open, but when we reach the heart of this plenty, Kai stands up and presses the yellow bar above me. He has to reach over my head. The edge of his elbow clonks my ear. He neither apologizes nor lets go of my wrist.

The bell dings. Squealing, the bus stops beside a shelter.

"You live here?" I ask, and he snorts.

"No, I just come here for my own amusement." His words are toxic with sarcasm. He yanks me off the bus. The driver gives our linked wrists a derisive look, then shuts the double doors and drives away.

"Jerk," I say.

He doesn't say anything, instead leading me down the sidewalk.

The houses are as large as churches, and seem just as judgmental. _Why don't you live here?_ they ask. _Aren't you good enough? Aren't you worthy enough?_ I think their windows look like eyes, and it's all I can do to keep from cowering beneath their unblinking gazes.

We stop in front of what looks like a Gothic castle.

It's got a grey rock path leading from two marble steps. The path is set at a diagonal, so as to slice the yard in half. It throws me off. It doesn't look right. Something is strange, here.

We walk down this path. When we get to the steps, I trail my fingers along the iron railing. It's cold.

Kai flicks a key out of his pocket and inserts it in the lock. Before turning, he turns to me.

His face is tense. He's finally bothered to open his eyes. "Don't say anything to him. If he speaks to you, just shut up and let me talk."

This may be the first time that I've ever heard Kai voluntarily request to handle communication. I shrug.

He does not look away. "I'm serious, Max."

I shrug again. "Fine. It's not like I care."

"That's your issue, isn't it?" Kai turns back to the lock, twists it, and pushes the door open. At last, he lets go of me. I bring my arm up to my chest and rub it like a wounded animal, then follow him when he steps inside and looks ready to close the door in my face.

I wonder what he would have come if I hesitated. It is, after all, _he_ who has compelled me to be here. If I had my choice, I would be –

where would I be?

I do not know. The truth is that I do not wish to be anywhere. The world has nothing to offer but high-heeled shoes and bone-skinny models.

The entranceway is every bit as lavish as the outside. The tiling is green rock.

He shuffles his feet from his sneakers – they're shiny, dark, and new – and sticks them on a little red carpet that already holds a pair of dress shoes his size, and another larger pair in black. I put mine next to his. They're shabby. Childish. Out of style. I don't care.

He walks inside. From the way his shoulders collect around his neck, I'm half expecting to see guillotines.

In lieu of that, the floors are all covered in sparkling clean wood. There are oil paintings on the wall. A bookshelf stands at attention beside a cushy white sofa.

His shoulders go a little higher. "Grandfather?" He sounds small.

I walk in and stand beside him.

"Grandfather?" He's a little louder, this time. The answer is still non-existent. He tries two more times, then snorts and turns in my direction. "Whatever. You don't have to worry about talking to him anymore."

"Oh, yeah, because that was _really_ praying on my mind."

"Shut it." Kai starts towards the stairs, and, obedient being that I am, I walk after him.

It's a spiral staircase, a curving thing with gaps between each of the steps so the floor beneath can be seen. His house has three floors. I catch glimpses of it as we go – a kitchen with stainless-steel appliances, a wall hanging that looks straight from a medieval castle, a fireplace. He leads me down a hallway with a purple carpet, then to a dark wooden door.

He pauses, then opens it. Both of us go in.

I stop, completely, and simply _stare._

The walls, painted a bloody red, have holes in them. The plastic around the light switches and electric sockets are all cracked, smashed, broken. He's got a desk in the corner, looking almost normal and studious with its neat piles of textbooks, paper and writing utensils – but it has been scored all over with deep knife marks. Even the metal legs are scratched. When I look down at my feet, I see that there are words carved into the wood paneling. I try to read them. I can't. They're all in a foreign language; Russian, I assume. Either way, the letters squish so close together that they might well have been illegible in Japanese.

There's a surface layer, yes, of functionality. Everything easily replaceable had been fixed. The sheets on his bed are clean and neatly made. Plaid curtains hang in front of the windows. The basic structure of the room, though, the muscle mass – that has been destroyed.

The inside of my head feels almost exactly the same way as his room looks.

"_Dranzer!_"squawks something from beside his desk. Panic shoots through me, then subsides when I turn my head to investigate the danger. It's only a parrot in a cage. Behind it is a floor-length mirror, encased in a gilded frame. The glass has been cracked. There's a long, ragged shard missing from it.

Kai sits on the bed and gestures for me to do the same. I do.

We rest, for a moment, quiet.

There's a sort of zen that rises from destruction.

Finally, I shrug, like this is no big deal. "So what did you want to show me?"

He holds up his hands. "I want to show you that you're not alone."

"No, yeah, I know that." I shake my head and look away, tired of this old line, tired of this crap people like to feed me. I hadn't been expecting it from Kai. Oh, sure, he's a walking ball of angst, but he's never actually tried to manipulate me with it. Not until now. I do not appreciate the change. "You're here, aren't you? You shouldn't be, but you are."

"Anorexia, wasn't it?"

I twist back, ready to tear out his throat – but he's got both his gloves off and I'm suddenly realizing that maybe they're not just decoration.

There are scars across them, tight twisted things. Lines chase themselves up his arms. They look hungry.

I look away. I don't care. I don't – I really, really do not.

His voice is harsh. "We all want a way out, Max."

"She just wanted to be skinny." I lift my legs up and fold them to my chest. I'm drowning, I swear I am. I'm falling off the bridge. He thinks he's saved me, but I'm right back there, if only in my mind. I will drown. I will die. I will do it all in my head and no one will be able to call me back, ever. I'll die and he'll stop telling me these stupid things.

"And what do you want?"

Stop it, stop it.

He does not.

"Hiding is stupid," he says, "if you're not doing it for any reason."

There's a dim, creeping silence. I look at the frame of his bed. It's metal, but he's managed to twist it up somehow. It bends inwards. Somehow, the mattress prevents itself from collapsing. Sheer will, I think.

The desperation to survive is supposed to be one of the most powerful motivators. People do hard, painful things to live. They cut their arms out of trees. They shove urine-soaked cloths down their throat. And then you've got Sena, who didn't want to be anything but bone-thin. You have those scars on Kai's wrists, too deep and mangled to be much but a failed suicide attempt.

And you've got me.

In the corner of my vision, I see him looking up, determined. His eyes close briefly, then open again. It's the same look he sometimes gets before a battle. I don't know why he's fighting. If it's for him, I don't see what he could possibly be getting out of this, and if its for me, I'm only a few pieces of shattered glass.

Still.

As much as I hate him, as much as I want him to quiet down and leave me alone – at least I've finally got someone on my side.

"I'll show you," he says. "These –" he holds up his wrists. "These are not the important thing. I just want you to know where I've been." He jerks his chin upwards. His voice becomes hard. "You'll see." It's both a promise and a command.

My chest hitches. I feel that pain, that aching in my eyeballs – symptomatic of sleeplessness, insomnia, crying. I let go of my legs but that doesn't help at all.

I cry.

There's a shuffling, a noise behind the sniffles and wet breathing I am generating. Then, something warm descends around my shoulders. I flinch. It takes me a moment to realize what is happening.

Kai is holding me.


End file.
